Nobody's Home
by Keishi Huo
Summary: [The Amazing Spiderman 2 movieverse. Based on Avril Lavigne's 'Nobody's Home'.] A certain Osborn laments on what he did to his best friend. In the midst of alcohol and self hate the lines between Harry and the Goblin are blurred. He wasn't sure who he was or where he should go on such a twisted path. Might as well get one last thing done before the uncertain future came. [Oneshot]


**A/N: The Amazing Spiderman 2 fic. It can be seen as bromance, romance, whatever floats your boat.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. (Duh) Well, other than the actual writing part but you get the point.  
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_Well, I couldn't tell you_

_Why she felt that way_

_She felt it every day_

A loud crash sounded through the room as a glass smashed against the wall, alcohol splattering on the wall and glass shards clinking with the ice as they fell to the floor. Harry wiped an arm across his lips and collapsed on the sofa. He slumped down and rested his elbow on his thigh, his hand pressed to his forehead with his eyes squeezed shut. The mechanical exoskeleton he had worn as the Green Goblin rested against the wall, serving as a constant reminder of what he had done. It caused more than enough conflicting feelings everyday which paralleled his conflicting physical condition. Ever since taking the spider venom and transforming it was hard to say what was happening, his physical condition was always fluctuating wildly. Harry couldn't risk going to a doctor. Hell, he couldn't even hire one to attend to him personally. The possibility of his supervillain identity leaking to the public was simply too great and he had to keep his hand on Oscorp. Now that he had finally taken back his company, albeit through forces no one would ever know, he refused to lose it again.

_And I couldn't help her_

_I just watched her make_

_The same mistakes again_

Unbeknownst to Harry, Spiderman was latched onto the wall outside. Thankfully, most people didn't look up, especially with the rush of the city streets. His masked face peeked into the window every so often but he was mostly content with listening. It brought back memories of the last him he did this in the same place, the same time of day, and almost the same situation. It was several months after their big battle in the clock tower and by now Gwen's death had sunk in properly. He was back on the vigilante hero road, doing what he needed to do to keep New York safe and honoring the deaths he had caused in the Stacy family. Now, almost every day around sunset, when he knew Harry would be out of his office and in the room in which Spiderman denied him of his blood, Peter always came to check up on his former friend. It was impossible to deny the blinding role Harry had played in Gwen's death but it was even harder to forget who his childhood friend once was and all the happy times they spent together. That was back when Harry still made jabs about his braces and Peter would laugh with him, occasionally returning with teases about the rich boy's hair. Now, even though he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't resist from making sure Harry was alright. Lately, Harry didn't seem even close to alright but it wasn't like Peter could help. Not anymore.

_What's wrong, what's wrong now?_

_Too many, too many problems_

_Don't know where she belongs_

_Where she belongs_

A knock came from the wooden door but Harry ignored it, instead he flopped down on the couch with a sigh and buried his head into the pillow.

Another knock. "Sir?" Came the distinct voice of his female assistant. There was no reply and she called out again, "I'm about to leave but are you alright? I heard a loud noise."

Harry shifted his head so that part of his face and mouth was free and he yelled back in an annoyed tone, "Go away Felicia!"

"But-"

"I said **leave**!"

A silence blanketed the room before he heard the soft clacks of her heels as Felicia did as she was told. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and rolled over onto his back. Felicia was now the only reliable person in his life anymore now that Electro was gone and he had a 'falling out' with Pete. Heh. However, reliability did not equate to trust. Especially when it came to a tricky temptress like Felicia. Still, she was a lot better than all those old bastards that tried to get rid of him. He had fired all of them and nullified their retirement plans as soon as he became Harry just enough to take back Oscorp.

_She wants to go home_

_But nobody's home_

_That's where she lies_

_Broken inside_

The boy's eyes fluttered slightly as he began to doze off, he hadn't slept for about a week. As the fatigue began to fall on him images flashed past his eyes. The clock tower. Gears grinding. Silence. He caught a glimpse of Spiderman leaping past the metal debris. A sickening crack. Harry jolted violently, his hand flying up to cover his face. His body was trembling and the room suddenly felt cold as ice. His hand brushed lightly across the sheen of sweat coating his face. Letting out a shaky breath Harry shifted into a sitting position albeit with some difficulty. His arms wouldn't stop shaking even as he reached to the nightstand to grab another tumbler glass and fill it halfway with vodka. Nowadays he kept three or four alcohol glasses around just in case he decided to throw more than a few of them. He chugged down the drink and slammed the glass onto the table, his body lolling back as he focused on the stinging burn in his throat. His senses felt hazed and even as he was sitting the world seemed to be shifting constantly. He didn't get drunk anymore, just a little tipsy but it stopped there. Thankfully, it was just tipsy enough to make the images go away. For a while at least. He wasn't safe from them anywhere, he wasn't safe from the blood staining his hands, the constant sting of the green splotch of diseased skin marring his neck, the constant voices whirling around him in constant shunning. No matter what he did he couldn't escape these demons that made him feel so distant. So lost.

_With no place to go_

_No place to go_

_To dry her eyes_

_Broken inside_

A hot tear rolled down his pale cheek, cutting through the cold that tainted his skin. Harry looked up at the decorative ceiling with a sigh. This seemed to happen a lot now. The more the Osborn thought about all the events that had occurred that year the more he felt like breaking down completely. Like he wanted to leave the spiteful world in which he had no one to care about him anymore. Norman, a damned bastard but his father still, was dead. Peter, who was once his best and only friend, hated and betrayed him. Electro, the only one who was loyal until the end, had...well...met his end of course. Every other damned traitor within his company, fired and deprived of any benefits that should've and could've been theirs had they not stabbed him in the back. And Felicia was too introverted, too secretive for him to lean on. He didn't bother to wipe away the tears that flowed from his eyes, he felt too empty to even move.

_Open your eyes_

_And look outside_

_Find the reasons why_

With an unstable sigh Harry stood from his place to walk to the large window, his legs moved slowly and unevenly, his stance lopsided. As he approached the glass he could see his reflection. Hair mussed, dried streaks on his cheeks, bloodshot eyes, red and black highlighting his face while the rest of his skin was deathly pale. He climbed up slowly and hung onto the railing with one arm, his other pushing open the window pane. In a split second his eyes flickered to the side, he could've sworn he saw something move. Or someone. It was undoubtedly out-of-place but all he could see was the standard side of the building. Multi-colored lights flashed and shined brightly below and deafening noise rose even to Harry's ears. He let the frigid wind wash over him, cooling his skin and whipping his hair to the side. His throat stung with a more insistent pain as the breeze chilled him. Why not just wait there until he rotted? What was the point in living if he had to live in such a manner in which death would be much calmer? What was the point? The cold felt so pleasant so what was the problem?

_You've been rejected_

_And now you can't find_

_What you've left behind_

More than his throat stung. He had always thought that a heartache was just a dumb cliché. Some lame excuse that people would make when it was the pity and sympathy the act earned that truly made them feel better. Now, he knew that he had been wrong. His chest wrenched as though his beating heart was about to tear itself out just to escape his tortured flesh. Who would blame it? He didn't feel much anymore. Just festering anger and sorrow. Harry felt as though his lungs would freeze over and he would stop breathing. His throat tightened, his breath became shallow and uneven as memories came back with the wind.

He had looked over the edge of his perch inside the clocktower. Peter was there. His friend was holding the blond girl named Gwen Stacy, her legs bent an awkward angle and her head hung back unnaturally. Even from his high up perch he could see the dead, empty look in her eyes. She wasn't there anymore. He would've smirked, laughed even. The female was finally out of his way. The female that had made her way into Peter's heart while he was stuck in boarding school. The one who had corrupted his friend and snatched him away was finally gone. 'Laugh,' he had thought. 'Go ahead and celebrate. It was a victory.' But that was before he heard Peter, heard he heard his faint yet sorrowful voice.

"Gwen?" He had asked in such a pitiful tone. "Gwen wake up! You can't die!" He remembered the cries of anguish, the tone that was laced so deeply with pain. Harry couldn't stand it. He took advantage of the moment to escape not just the authorities but to escape the mourning and despair. It hurt too much to see Pete care for someone like Gwen in such a way. Someone so fragile and weak. Someone who was about to give up Peter for a college on another continent. Harry reached a hand to his chest, his fist wrenching the olive colored fabric as he hung his head. It hurt even more for a different reason, a selfish reason. He was the one who caused Peter to use such a miserable voice.

_Her feelings she hides_

_Her dreams she can't find_

_She's losing her mind_

_She's falling behind_

Fresh tears prickled his skin and he leaped down from his stand. This time he wiped them away quickly with his arm. He wanted with all his heart to go back. To turn time around and grant them a second chance. To grant him and Peter a second chance. How he longed for the days when he had no disease and Harry still had those stupid braces to make fun of. When he wasn't in charge of a globalized company and Peter didn't have that serious look in his eyes. The eyes that held too much experience, too much pain. Back to a time when both their shoulders didn't sag with colossal responsibilities and they could go walking together whenever they pleased, shoving each other playfully and laughing with all their heart. 'Why am I doing this?' The thought cut through the haze of his mind. 'When did the path become so twisted? When did **I** become so twisted? When was the turning point?' Questions, questions. But where were the answers? Certainly not in the future, it would only become more confusing. The path would become more and more twisted, the answers would be lost in the dark and soon enough, so would the questions.

_She can't find her place_

_She's losing her faith_

_She's falling from grace_

_She's all over the place, yeah_

Choking back a sob Harry walked briskly back to the couch and shoved aside several papers as well as various other things off of the coffee table, the items falling carelessly onto the marble floor. He rifled around until he finally found his phone that had been buried under all the trash. His shaky hands barely managed to turn it on and scroll through his contacts. He knew the number by heart of course, but he didn't trust himself to type it in properly, his hands were simply too shaky. Carefully he pressed the green phone icon next to the contact name 'Pete'.

Peter pulled on a pair of blue sweatpants and tossed his Spiderman pants into the closet, kicking his shoes in after it. He was tugging the top part of his costume over his head when he heard his phone vibrate and a muffled ringtone played as well. Hastily he struggled to pull of the top half before nearly tearing it off and chucking it into the clothes bin. He unzipped his backpack and shuffled around the contents for his cellphone. As soon as he touched it he lifted the device out with a triumphant look. His expression immediately darkened as he saw the caller ID 'Harry'. Had he found out about him watching? In his brief moment of shock the phone stopped ringing, he had stalled too long. In a second the voicemail icon popped into the top bar and ,warily, he pressed it. On the other end he could hear a faint noise, an almost unnoticeable noise. Something resembling a whisper, a soft sob. He waited. For a few seconds all he could hear were a few heavy breaths and Peter began to wonder if his friend would speak at all.

"Peter," Came a quiet, quivering voice. Despite the unusual tone it was still distinctively Harry's. "Peter, I...I'm sorry."

*Beep*

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**A/N: Well the ending is relatively ambiguous. Guess we'll just have to wait for the third movie.**


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